


Perfected Disinterest

by bazinga01



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2021-01-20 17:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21285665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazinga01/pseuds/bazinga01
Summary: AU . Rachel is pursuing a teaching degree and ends up working at McKinley High School. Quinn is her rebellious pink-haired student who refuses to succeed, forcing Rachel to continuously seek the girl out.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Kudos: 36





	Perfected Disinterest

Her friends all think she's crazy for changing her student teaching location just a couple months before it's supposed to take place. She was set to work as an assistant to a music teacher at one of Columbus' large public high schools.

That was the plan. Stay in Columbus. Do her semester of student teaching for her Master's degree in the city, then finish out her program at Ohio State next fall.

But then she finds out how little they're actually going to let her do as an intern at this place, and suddenly the "experience" she's supposed to be gaining next semester sounds like it will be incredibly minimal.

A week later she's on the phone with her father, who casually mentions in passing that the music teacher at the high school one town over from where she grew up just got fired.

(Dad found out at synagogue last week. Several parents were gossiping about it.)

So she calls the school because she figures- what does she have to lose?

Sure, she's not a certified teacher yet. But there's got to be something she can offer them, right? She's already got her bachelor's degree and everything.

The point is, her friends think she's crazy.

Because she was supposed to stay in Columbus this semester, but instead she's pulling into the parking lot of McKinley High School for her first day of student teaching in the town of Lima.

She assumed that she would get to help more, since the rapid change in faculty members would cause quite a bit of chaos and much needed assistance.

She never expected to be offered the actual _job_ for the semester. But the school is desperate for someone, and since it's an elective fine arts class, she knows the school doesn't care about who they pick as much.

Sad, but true. It's the reality of fine arts teaching positions in a lot of high schools.

So here she is, standing in the parking lot, feeling wholly out of place because there are actual _teachers_ who work here. And she's supposed to be one of them for the next five months.

**XXxxXX**

"Hello, I'm Miss Berry and I'll be teaching your elective music theory course this semester," she introduces herself with false confidence from behind her desk at the front of the classroom.

She already knows that this is going to be the toughest group.

Because they're seniors.

The majority of them have no desire to be in this class. It's the last class period of the day, and the only reason they're here is because they need a final elective credit to graduate.

"I have a course syllabus that outlines the topics that we will be covering over the next several weeks, if you could please pass them around," she begins, handing a stack of papers to a student at the front of the room. He takes a paper then passes the stack, and Rachel nods, moving back towards her desk.

"Question," a boy with shaggy blonde hair and a disproportionally large mouth raises his hand from the third row.

"Yes?" Rachel acknowledges, wondering how there are already questions.

"What happened to Mr. Whitworth? 'Cause like, we heard some crap about him retiring but everyone knows he really got fired. What happened?"

Several of the students nod in agreement and look at her curiously, waiting to see what kind of answer she'll provide.

"What's your name?"

"Sam," the blonde boy responds. "Sam Evans."

"Well, Sam Evans, I regret to tell you that I have no idea what happened with Mr. Whitworth. All I know is that there was a teaching position available and it was offered to me. Now, on to today's lesson."

Rachel moves toward the whiteboard and picks up a marker, uncapping it and turning to face the class.

"How many of you have some kind of background in music? Whether you play an instrument or learned how to read basic music notes at some point. Anything. I'm curious how many of you there are."

About a third of the twenty five or so students raise their hands, and honestly she's impressed there's even that many.

"Cool. Well today we're going to be covering the basic note system, so this will probably be review for those of you who just raised your hand, unless you learned to play an instrument by ear."

She draws a quick treble clef and then a basic scale of quarter notes from G to F, working her way up.

"This right here is what is referred to as a clef. There are three main types of clefs in music, and this one is called a treble clef. The treble clef begins on the note G. Now, you'll notice that I wrote seven notes on the board. That's because there are only seven note letters, A through G, before you start back at A again. Or in this case, G through F and then back to G again. Now-"

Rachel's train of thought is cut off when the door clicks open and a student strides in, completely ignoring the teacher at the front of the room. Rachel watches her move to the back of the room, eyebrow raised in distaste and waiting for the student to at least apologize or provide some sort of excuse for her late arrival.

When the girl drops her black messenger bag unceremoniously to the ground beside her desk at the very back of the room and slides into her chair without saying a word, Rachel folds her arms across her chest.

"Excuse me?"

The girl has wild pink hair sticking out in at least three different directions and a sliced up black t-shirt promoting some band that Rachel's never heard of. Her eyeliner is dark and a thin nose ring loops through the side of her nose.

She blinks a couple of times before realizing that Rachel is looking at her expectantly, and then looks to Rachel, unimpressed.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a late pass?"

A few students in the room snicker and Rachel works to remain impassive. She can see the girl with the pink hair fighting off a deep smirk as well.

"Should I?" the girl asks, and Rachel can already tell that this girl is going to be trouble this semester.

"Considering you're six minutes late, yes, you do."

The girl quirks her eyebrow and runs her fingernails through her hair, pushing some of the strands out of her face.

"I don't have a pass," the girl replies, shrugging. "But according to school policy, I have a clean slate for the start of the semester. Which means I need a least two lame little check marks next to my name before you can start handing me detentions like free candy. So why don't we just skip to the part where you give me my little check mark?"

The corner of the girl's mouth is quirked up in a half smile and she's giving Rachel this self-satisfied look. The girl has some major respect for authority issues, but unfortunately she's totally right about the policy. The principal informed her of this during her training last Friday.

She knows that she can't let this rebellious girl get away with her unruly behavior. If she lets herself get walked on during the first day, she'll never get any respect from her. This girl wants to be snarky. So it's time to play into her game.

Rachel smiles back, and she can tell the girl is immediately caught off guard. She walks down the isle until she's standing directly in front of the girl's desk. She has a retort ready to toss at this girl, but then she sees the title of a book sticking out of the girl's messenger bag. Her smile turns genuine at that point and she looks into the girl's eyes.

"A Collection of Works by William Wordsworth. How very badass of you," she mocks with a glint in her eye, and she watches a faint blush creep up the girl's cheeks and momentary embarrassment flash across hazel eyes.

Several students watch the exchange with rapt attention, and she knows she just gained some respect (or at least some cool points) from these other students.

The girl recovers quickly though, before any students can really notice her embarrassment, and rolls her eyes.

"It's for English. You know, the class where you have to _read_ stuff. "

Rachel wants to call her out on it, to tell her that she knows exactly what the public school curriculum is in Ohio for English. That she knows poetry is incorporated into junior year English, not senior year. Instead she gives the girl a knowing look, and lets it go.

She's pretty sure the girl realizes this too.

"Mhmm. Fine. What's your name?"

The girl stares at her with a hardened gaze before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms against her chest.

"Fabray."

"Alright, Ms. Fabray. I'll go give you one of those check marks that you seem so eager to collect," Rachel answers with a mocking glint in her eye, turning to walk back to the front of the room.

She knows that she won't forget about the girl in the next forty minutes, so she forgoes pulling out her attendance sheet for now and instead picks up her notes to begin where she left off.

She glances just once to the back of the room where the Fabray girl is sitting as she grabs her whiteboard marker, and she sees the girl staring at her with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Rachel expected embarrassment or complete disinterest. Maybe even mild anger. But the girl is surveying her intently with this _look_ that she has absolutely no idea what to do with.

So she ignores it and turns back to her treble clef drawing instead.

"Like I was saying, we start on G…"

**XXxxXX**

Two weeks later, she's handing back their first quiz at the end of class.

"Most of you did extremely well. That's to be expected with this very introductory material. Just don't let it give you a false sense of security and make you slack off," she tells them, walking around the room and trying to remember the right names.

They all look at her with completely disinterested expressions.

"Okay look, guys. I know that this is an elective class that most of you don't care about at all. I get that. But this class will be a more bearable environment if you actually interact and participate. Once we get past this boring intro stuff and start exploring some history and different music styles, it has the potential to be fun. But it requires your cooperation, okay?"

A few of the students actually nod. She can tell that most of them seem to like her well enough. They just have no interest in the subject material and it's the last class period of the day.

Rachel looks down and has trouble remembering who this particular student is.

"Kelsey?"

"Here," a red-headed girl on the end of the second row raises her hand and Rachel leans over to hand her her quiz.

She told them they could leave once they got their quizzes back, and soon most of the class is gone. Rachel gets to the last quiz which she saved for the end intentionally, and walks up to Quinn Fabray at the back of the room.

Quinn is completely ignoring her, focused on writing something in a notebook instead.

"I suppose it was too much to hope you were actually taking notes in that thing earlier," Rachel greets, sliding into the desk seat next to her.

Quinn looks up and flashes a smirk, quickly shutting the notebook before her teacher gets any ideas and tries to pry.

"You gonna give me my quiz or what?" she asks impatiently, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Rachel holds up the paper in front of Quinn, but doesn't hand it to her yet.

"You got a _zero_, Quinn. You left the entire thing blank. Care to explain?"

She hates how this girl with her wild pink hair and perfectly disinterested stance just raises her eyebrow in amusement.

"This is funny to you? Hmm?" Rachel continues, frustrated.

"Well, it's just that I'm looking at my score and I didn't get a zero. I got a point."

Rachel huffs and rolls her eyes.

"Yes, you got one point. Out of twenty. For writing your _name_."

Quinn's smirk turns into an actual smile and she laughs.

"Still not a zero. And personally, I think a name like mine deserves more than one point. Just saying."

Rachel pushes the paper down onto Quinn's desk and looks at her closely, trying to figure this girl out. She's only been late one other time, and the girl is in class every single day. She appears to be quite intelligent, just completely disinterested. But even then, Quinn should have been able to pass this quiz with ease. She could have picked up most of the answers just from _sitting_ here the past two weeks. But she didn't even attempt to answer. The entire quiz is blank aside from her name.

"What's your deal?" Rachel questions, and even though she's frustrated, there's a part of her that's genuinely curious about her.

"What's yours?" Quinn fires back, and Rachel frowns in confusion.

"What-"

"You're way too hot to be a teacher here. And like, scary young. How are you even a real teacher? What are you _doing_ here?" Quinn questions, looking her up and down.

Rachel flushes and steps back, diverting her eyes.

"That's incredibly inappropriate. I _am_ your teacher this semester. And that's all that matters. Now will youplease explain what _your_ deal is?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders and grabs her quiz, folding it into her messenger bag.

"I don't waste time on things I don't care about," she says nonchalantly, already heading for the door.

"Hold on a second," Rachel interjects angrily, stepping in front of her. "Look, even if you don't give a shit about this class," she begins, only to realize her error. Quinn raises her eyebrows, amusement shining in her eyes. Rachel's still getting used to the whole professional teacher thing. "Even if you don't _care_," Rachel corrects, "you still need to pass to graduate. I don't want to see a quiz like this again. No matter how much you hate my class."

Quinn gives her a mild glare before rolling her eyes.

"Fine."

Rachel steps out of her way then, and Quinn moves towards the door, only turning back once she's standing by the door handle. She grips her hand on the wood of the door and looks back at Rachel, mischievous glint in her eye.

"I don't hate your class, Ms. Berry," she says in a falsely innocent voice that makes Rachel look up from her notes and stare at her expectantly. When Quinn goes a moment without saying anything, Rachel raises her eyebrow in question.

"You're nice to look at," Quinn explains, winking and shutting the classroom door before Rachel can find the words to chastise her for being so blatantly inappropriate.

Quinn Fabray is getting under her skin.

And she has an entire semester to spend with this petulant pink-haired girl.

God give her strength.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn Fabray gets exactly a sixty percent on her next quiz, the absolute bare minimum percentage required to pass this class. Of course, when averaged with her first quiz, she's still at a failing average.

But Rachel just _knows_ that Quinn intentionally got this exact score to piss Rachel off. She didn't fill in any other answers. She filled in the exact number of answers to scrape a D, getting every answer she filled in correct, and then left the rest blank.

Once again, Rachel saves her quiz for last and waits until everyone else leaves.

"I'm starting to think you make me wait until last intentionally," Quinn drawls, resting her worn out converse on the edge of the seat in front of her.

"That's because I do," Rachel answers, quickly getting irritated. "What's this?" she asks, holding up Quinn's quiz.

"That's a passing grade," Quinn states, arching her eyebrow and daring Rachel to question her on it.

"It's intentionally a _barely passing_ grade. You think I didn't notice that you calculated exactly what you should answer to get a sixty percent and then left the rest blank?"

She sees a smirk flicker across Quinn's face before she hides it, grabbing the quiz from Rachel's hand.

"You told me you expected a passing grade next time. And I delivered. So I'm leaving," she responds, stepping around Rachel.

Right when Quinn is about to reach the door Rachel calls out.

"You keep this up Quinn, and pretty soon I'm going to have to send your parents a deficiency notice," she threatens. Maybe this will get Quinn to take things seriously.

When Quinn turns to face her, Rachel sees an expression pass across her face that's never been there before. There's a certain sadness in her eyes that barely makes itself known before Quinn masks it up.

"The good old parents threat won't work on me. Mine don't give a fuck," Quinn replies, shrugging.

Rachel opens her mouth, but she can't think of anything to say to make Quinn snap out of this attitude.

"Ms. Berry?" Quinn questions, quirking her eyebrow while she rests her hand against the doorknob.

"What?" Rachel huffs. She can already tell by the tone of Quinn's voice and the smirk on her face that she's not going to like whatever the girl has to say.

"You're even hotter when you're angry," she tosses back, and this time Quinn lingers just long enough to watch Rachel's jaw drop before she walks away.

Not only does she have an incredibly stubborn student who refuses to do work that she's capable of doing.

Now the same student has consistently started hitting on her.

This is not good.

And the worst part is, Quinn Fabray is insanely attractive in that fuck the world attitude, pink hair, gorgeous hazel eyes kind of way.

This is _really_ not good.

What on earth is Quinn Fabray's deal?

It's annoying as hell.

**XXxxXX**

She's been teaching at McKinley High for about a month now, and things with Quinn Fabray are nearly unbearable.

She continues to perform at a D average when they both know she is capable of more. Rachel finally sent out a deficiency notice four days ago and has heard nothing from Quinn's parents, nor has Quinn's attitude changed.

And Quinn continues to be inappropriate in her words and flattery. It's not an every day thing. In fact, she intentionally spaces it out so that Rachel doesn't become desensitized to it. She waits until Rachel isn't expecting it, and then says something just as she leaves the classroom.

She doesn't even manage to say anything because Quinn always leaves right after she speaks, and Rachel will _not_ be that crazy teacher chasing after her student down the hall to confront her.

So Quinn says something and leaves, and Rachel stands in her empty classroom with flushed cheeks and a whole mix of embarrassing feelings that she doesn't want to deal with.

Quinn's gotten more specific with her compliments too. At first it was casually calling her hot or attractive, but now it's progressed into complimenting specific items of clothing or appearance.

Three days ago Quinn told her that her ass looked fantastic in her skirt and Rachel felt like she was choking on her tongue afterwards.

The comments have gotten wildly inappropriate, but she hasn't had the heart to take the issue to Principal Figgins. Even though it would almost certainly get Quinn busted, she also feels like she would be losing somehow.

She feels like this has become some sort of battle of wills to see who will crack first, whether Quinn will give up her behavior or Rachel will call her out on it.

Rachel Berry is nothing if not fiercely competitive.

She knows it's stupid. She does. It's absolutely moronic. She should have taken this issue to a higher authority ages ago.

But she manages to justify keeping it to herself.

Even if her justifications are shaky at best.

(She refuses to acknowledge the part of herself that allows it to continue because she secretly gets a thrill out of Quinn's crass comments.)

So it's been a month. Quinn Fabray is as enigmatic and infuriating as ever, but Rachel has come to anticipate it. Even though the girl drives her insane, she at least knows what to expect most of the time. Quinn gets to class on time but sits at the very back and completely ignores her entire lecture, choosing to write in a notebook instead.

Sometimes Rachel wonders what the girl writes in there, what secrets lie behind her perfected disinterest.

She knows she's in a world of trouble that her brain thinks about these things now.

There's a certain routine to it though, which is why Rachel is completely thrown off when Quinn walks into the classroom and sits in the front row. Rachel stares at her with wide eyes, almost wanting to say something. But most of the students are already here, and Quinn ignores her, rummaging through her bag instead.

She pulls out a different notebook than the one she usually writes in and a pencil, then looks at Rachel expectantly.

The bell rings and Rachel blinks rapidly, trying to ignore Quinn and focus on getting class started.

Rachel begins to talk to them about triads and Quinn…

Quinn takes _notes_.

The only thing that would alarm her more than Quinn hitting on her at this point is Quinn suddenly showing an interest in class.

And Quinn must know this. Quinn is _messing_ with her, and Rachel fumbles on her words several different times during her lecture whenever her eyes accidentally lock onto hazel.

The worst part of it all is that Quinn is remarkable at keeping a straight face. She doesn't smirk once the entire class period. Most of the students assume that Quinn is just being as strange as ever and doing something else weird.

When the bell finally rings to signal the end of class, Quinn takes her time packing up her things. Rachel knows that she's daring her to say something.

But why would a teacher confront a student about sitting in the front and diligently taking notes?

Quinn seems to sense the dilemma that she intentionally created and she smirks for the first time since she entered the room an hour ago.

"What game are you playing?" Rachel finally asks, breaking the silence.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn replies evenly, stowing her pen in the side pocket of her bag.

Rachel laughs humorlessly and rolls her eyes.

"Sure you don't."

"Am I not allowed to pay attention and take notes in class?" she asks with annoying fake confusion and Rachel shakes her head.

"I'm sure you've got something up your sleeve, but fine. You're welcome to sit up front and take notes. Now make whatever wildly inappropriate comment you've chosen for today, and be on your way."

Yeah, she's snippy with her. Quinn Fabray has made her reach her wits end.

But Quinn smiles a completely genuine smile, different from the normal smirk that Rachel usually receives, and sits back on the desk behind her.

"Are you asking me to hit on you, Ms. Berry?" she asks, grinning widely.

Rachel steps back and blinks, feeling her cheeks flush pink.

"I…I'm…would you _stop_ that?" Rachel asks shrilly. "Do you have _any_ idea how many lines you've crossed, Quinn? I could probably have you suspended at the least."

Quinn quirks her eyebrow and relaxes back on her elbows, kicking her foot out in front of her to rest of the tile floor.

"But we both know you're not going to. Let's face it, Ms. Berry. If you were going to report me, you would have done it weeks ago."

She hates that Quinn is right. God knows she should have stopped this a long time ago, and any professional would have.

But she's been living in Lima for a month to get her student teaching hours and somehow Quinn Fabray has become the most interesting part of her day.

"Are you gay?" Rachel blurts out before she can stop herself.

Her eyes widen when she realizes that she actually asked the question aloud. She's wondered for a while, but she can't believe she actually _asked._ Quinn laughs a real genuine laugh and then bites her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes alight with amusement.

"Does it matter?" Quinn replies, arching her eyebrow as she continues smiling.

"I don't know why I just asked you that. It was completely inappropriate. I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Fabray," Rachel states through her blush, grabbing her purse.

She heads for the door, but Quinn speaks behind her, halting her steps.

"Ms. Fabray, huh? What, are we doing a role reversal now?" Quinn questions, smile transforming into her signature smirk. "Does that mean I get to call you Rachel?"

Rachel's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, before she gives up and turns away. She's intent to just ignore Quinn at this point and leave with some shred of dignity intact.

But then she hears Quinn call out from several steps behind her, amidst the small crowd of students still milling around at their lockers.

"I am."

She hears the words and turns, against her better judgment. Quinn is standing about ten feet away from her with a broad smile on her face, and several students are completely oblivious to the exchange. One student walks by for a moment, and briefly intercepts her line of sight. When she can see Quinn again, she looks at her in confusion.

"_Totally gay_," Quinn mouths silently, exaggerating the movements of her mouth to make her words clear.

Rachel flushes and whips back around, walking swiftly in the opposite direction down the hall.

She can hear Quinn's laugh echo against the lockers as she does so.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is absent the following Tuesday and she has no idea why.

She hates how quick she is to notice.

She hates that she actually misses Quinn and her crass behavior.

**XXxxXX**

On Wednesday, Quinn walks into the room and sits in the back of the class.

Apparently she's bored with her brief stint at the front of the room. She doesn't acknowledge Rachel at all, nor does she say anything about where she was yesterday.

It's not like students usually report to their teachers about why they were absent, but that doesn't stop Rachel from wondering.

Rachel talks about the effective uses of dissonance in composition and Quinn ignores her for the entire hour.

**XXxxXX**

Thursday they take a quiz.

Rachel sits on the sofa in her apartment that night and stares in absolute shock when she gets to Quinn's quiz to grade.

Every single answer is filled in. Not only that, but every single answer is correct, including the two extra credit questions.

At the very bottom of the page is a scrawled note.

_To balance out my first quiz score. Now I officially have a passing grade._

She's right. The five percent she got on her first quiz balances out with the perfect score she just received and now her official grade is a D.

Rachel circles the one hundred and four percent at the top of the page in red ink with far more force than necessary.

It's infuriating.

Quinn is _smart_. She just refuses to succeed.

**XXxxXX**

The next day, Rachel doesn't save Quinn's quiz for last when she hands them back. She leaves it mixed in with all the other papers.

She hands Quinn her quiz back with a disappointed shake of her head, and doesn't allow her the opportunity to provide some stupid sarcastic retort.

Quinn leaves with the other students as soon as she sees that Rachel isn't going to play into this today.

**XXxxXX**

Principal Figgins says that she has full access to the sheet music that the school owns (which isn't much) when she asks for it. She told him that she's interested in starting an extracurricular choir on campus, and she's curious what music the school already owns. He tells her that it's all located in a filing cabinet by the curtain on stage left in the auditorium.

So after she dismisses her class, in which Quinn ignored her as usual, she spends twenty minutes drafting an email to send to her academic advisor at Ohio State and then heads to the auditorium.

She uses the side door that leads directly to backstage, rather than entering through the main doors, since the sheet music cabinet is located back here anyway.

But she gets entirely confused when she hears a piano melody echoing in the empty auditorium.

The tune sounds like something modern and it flows effortlessly, beautiful somber chords weaving together. She steps around the curtain to see who is playing, and her jaw hangs open when she sees a head of pink hair bent over piano keys.

Quinn's back is turned to her, and she remains completely unaware that she isn't the only one in the auditorium anymore.

It sounds like Quinn must have drawn out the original intro of whatever song she is playing because a moment later she begins to sing.

"_All I need is a bitter song, to make me better,_" Quinn sings gently, transitioning flawlessly into the lyrical part of the composition.

Rachel wants to interrupt her, to call her out on whatever twisted game she's been playing by almost failing a basic music theory class when she is able to play piano like that.

But her desire to continue to listen to Quinn outweighs her desire to reprimand the girl.

So she stands off to the side and lets Quinn continue to play.

It isn't until the last haunting chord fades away that Rachel steps from behind the curtain and starts clapping slowly.

Quinn's head whips around and her eyes widen when she sees Rachel standing there, right on the edge of stage left.

She stares at Rachel for several seconds, and then turns back around without saying a word. Rachel approaches the piano slowly, until she's standing at the edge of the bench where Quinn is sitting.

Her hands are resting on top of the keys, unmoving, and Rachel watches Quinn's profile until the girl finally turns to look at her.

When Quinn does turn, Rachel looks at her expectantly, and Rachel knows that she doesn't need to voice her questions or her anger. Quinn understands perfectly what bullshit it is that she's barely passing a basic music class when she can sight read sheet music.

Quinn stares back several beats before speaking quietly.

"Sparsely used dissonance, when integrated correctly, has the ability to draw a listener into a song with its haunting qualities," she states, mimicking exactly what Rachel said in class on Wednesday.

Hazel eyes bore into hers and Rachel can't think of a single thing to say. All the angry retorts have seeped out of her mind, and she's stuck wondering who on earth this mystery of a girl is.

Quinn stares.

And Rachel does nothing but stare back.

Then all of a sudden there's movement and Quinn is standing and soft warm lips are colliding with hers. Quinn is pressed up against her and the momentum of her movement forces Rachel to grab onto the back of Quinn's shirt to keep from losing her balance. She feels hands steady her on her lower back immediately after she grabs at Quinn's shirt, and her other hand reaches up to fist into unruly pink hair on instinct.

It isn't until Quinn releases a breathy moan into her mouth that Rachel snaps out of it and yanks away, stumbling back a few steps.

Dark hazel eyes pierce through her and she watches Quinn lick at her lips, tasting the faint remnants of their kiss. Rachel sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate and clear her head.

"That…whatever that was _cannot_ happen again, Quinn," Rachel states adamantly.

The expression on Quinn's face doesn't change.

"I don't know what kind of weird fantasy crush you've had on me for a while, but this is completely inappropriate. I'm your _teacher_, Quinn, and this can't happen again."

Quinn takes slow measured steps towards her, and Rachel fights to maintain her resolve. Something about this girl drives her crazy, and she doesn't trust herself to be alone in the auditorium with her for much longer.

"Weird fantasy crush," Quinn echoes back with distaste. "Is that what you're calling this? Are you really going to act like you didn't just have your hand running through my hair? You're a moron if you think I'm gonna let you get away with calling that a one-sided kiss."

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and breathes in deeply, searching for the will power to get through this conversation, to establish a clear boundary and get the hell out of this auditorium.

"This is _wrong_, Quinn. Do you have any idea how much trouble we'd get in for this? Not only would I get fired, but I'd probably get kicked out of my master's program."

Her warning has the exact opposite effect that she intended though. Quinn's face lights up with a small smile and she reaches up slowly, tracing her finger along the edge of Rachel's jaw.

"Master's program? Does that mean you're not even a real teacher yet? I _knew_ you had to be super young."

She feels her nerve endings ignite as Quinn traces along her jaw delicately, and goosebumps break out on the side of her neck.

"It doesn't matter how old I am. Either way this is still illegal," Rachel whispers as Quinn moves further into her personal space.

"I'm eighteen," Quinn breathes, and Rachel feels her resolve start to shatter.

"Still can't happen, Quinn."

Quinn moves her closed lips along the top of Rachel's jaw, tracing back the path of her finger, until her lips are at her ear.

"_Rachel_," she entreats, voice husky with arousal.

And hearing her first name from Quinn's lips like that-

It absolutely unhinges her.

"Fuck," Rachel whimpers lacing her fingers through Quinn's hair again and bringing their lips together. Quinn's mouth opens to hers immediately and soft lips slide against hers, hot breath mixing with her own. "This is so wrong," she mumbles against her lips, and Quinn silences her by slipping her tongue inside.

She feels Quinn's wet tongue glide against hers, and she fists her hand tighter in her hair, moaning into her mouth.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?" Quinn husks, kissing behind her ear and down her neck.

"_God, _Quinn."

Quinn nips at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and her eyes roll back a little behind closed lids.

"We can't do this here," Rachel moans out when Quinn reaches her pulse point.

"Fuck that. Yes, we can," she answers, sucking on the sensitive area instead of listening to her.

"Seriously…mhmmnn…back stage at least," she tries to direct as Quinn reaches up to cup her breast roughly over her shirt.

Quinn seems to listen to her this time, and begins leading them backwards behind the curtain off-stage. Her back hits some kind of wall in the dark concealed area, and Quinn reaches down to lift her blouse up. Rachel complies when she feels Quinn's thumbs trace along the lines of her hips, lifting her arms above her head.

As soon as her shirt hits the floor, Quinn's eyes are raking over her.

"So fucking sexy," Quinn murmurs, scratching her nails lightly down Rachel's stomach and staring at her navy lace bra.

Rachel fumbles forward to pull at Quinn's shirt in response, and soon the black article of clothing is dropped to the floor. She stares at all the smooth creamy skin that's just been revealed to her, and slowly trails her eyes up until they meet fierce hazel.

Quinn reaches forward to cup her breast again and leans forward this time, pressing their stomachs together. She ghosts her lips across the side of Rachel's cheek until she gets to her ear, and licks lightly at the lobe before sucking on it.

When Rachel arches harshly into her, Quinn chuckles into her ear and hums, nipping at her neck with the slight pressure of teeth.

"Mmmnn…so do I call you Rachel or Ms. Berry?" Quinn whispers into her neck in a teasing tone, tracing her thumb against Rachel through her bra and reveling in the whine that she emits.

"I…Quinn…This is so bad," Rachel moans into her hair. "I'm never this irresponsible. You cloud my judgment. You-"

Quinn cuts her off with a deep kiss to silent her rant before Rachel can attempt to talk herself out of this somehow, and reaches behind her to unhook her bra.

When Quinn leans down and presses a kiss to her breast before tracing her tongue around her nipple, she loses any shred of focus and moral compass that she has left.

All she can do is feel.

And _god_ does she feel.

Quinn's hands and tongue blaze trails all over her body, until her mind isn't able to comprehend anything beyond the sensory overload that is Quinn.

This girl, this enigmatic annoying _gorgeous_ girl, completely clouds her senses and destroys any chance of rationality.

Maybe that's what the problem has been from the start.

She's never been able to be completely rational with Quinn. She played right into Quinn's rebellious behavior and engaged her in it, rather than stepping away or bringing other people into the situation.

Quinn has wanted this from the beginning. That's not a surprise.

The surprise is how quickly Rachel has found herself caught up in it, how impossible it has become to walk away and ignore Quinn. Somewhere along the way she got drawn in.

_Quinn_ drew her in, with her snarky humor and refusal to comply and eyes that hold a thousand secrets.

She is so completely out of line.

And when Quinn trails her fingertips along her inner thigh underneath her skirt, she can't bring herself to care.

Despite how completely fucked up this entire situation is.

Quinn's eyes lock with hers when she pushes her underwear aside and enters her, and Rachel wants to find the resolve to take this all back, to rewind to her first day with Quinn and forge a new path that doesn't lead them to _this_.

Instead, she threads her fingers through surprisingly soft pink hair and pulls Quinn's face into her neck, trying to stifle her moan.

"It's cute how hard you're trying to be quiet," Quinn smiles into her neck, twisting her fingers inside of Rachel to prove her point.

Rachel isn't able to suppress her response this time, and Quinn hums against her skin, satisfied.

She pulls Quinn's lips against hers, hoping that it will help to stifle some of the noises coming out of her mouth that are beyond her control. She has absolutely no idea who might still be around on campus and who, if anyone, might enter the auditorium.

The potential of getting caught might give Quinn a secret thrill, but it makes Rachel want to finish this off and flee the scene before her entire career ends up in shambles.

Quinn remedies that pretty quickly when her movements begin to speed up and her fingers curl, making Rachel grip her shoulders tightly.

"I'm…I…" Rachel tries to form words between sharp breaths.

"Let go," Quinn breathes against her ear in response, and the way she says it leaves no room for question. It's husky and commanding and it pushes her over the edge.

Quinn supports her small frame when her legs threaten to give out, and strokes her through her climax, placing wet kisses along her neck.

When Rachel's muscles finally relax, Quinn pulls back with a deep smirk on her face. For the first time, it actually makes Rachel laugh.

"Proud of yourself?" Rachel mutters, rolling her eyes. There's a certain fondness to her tone though, and Quinn smiles.

"Little bit," she replies with a nod, and Rachel shakes her head.

"I can't believe I just let that happen," Rachel groans, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, please. This was inevitable. It wasn't a matter of if but a matter of when, _Ms. Berry_," Quinn intentionally emphasizes Rachel's professional title, and that more than anything forces the reality of their situation upon her.

"This isn't happening again," Rachel states quietly, eyes imploring. "I'm serious, Quinn. There's so much at stake here. If you want to keep screwing up your own future by intentionally getting a poor grade in my class, then fine. But this, the sexual comments and the-"

"Sex?" Quinn interjects with an amused smile, arching her eyebrow.

"Yes, that too. All of that Quinn, it's done. It _needs_ to be done. You had your fun. You got it out of your system. Now it's time to be done with it. Am I making myself clear?"

Quinn surveys her silently for several moments, and it puts Rachel on edge. When she finally does respond, she steps forward, staring into Rachel's eyes intently.

"You're saying all of this like you don't play a part as well, like you're not just as into me as I'm into you. You really think it's that simple, that you can just call it off and pretend this never happened?"

Rachel sighs and ducks her head. She should have known that Quinn could never let this be, if for nothing else than because she has to combat Rachel on _everything._

"It _has_ to be that simple, Quinn. We don't have a choice."

"If you say so," Quinn mutters, but she has a glint in her eyes that says something entirely different. It screams _I don't believe you _and _you're a fool if you think this was a one time thing_.

Rachel nods and bends down to pick up her bra and blouse, redressing. Quinn follows her lead and does the same with her own shirt, while Rachel readjusts her skirt. Once they look moderately more presentable, Rachel looks at Quinn with an entirely different expression.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a skilled pianist, Quinn?" she questions quietly, searching Quinn's guarded eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she mutters, already stepping to move past Rachel and leave the auditorium. Rachel places her hand against the crook of her elbow though, forcing her to look back.

"You've been border-line failing my incredibly basic music class when you're a skilled musician. Of course it matters. Why, Quinn? It doesn't make any sense."

Quinn's step falters and she glances down at the floor before lifting her chin and meeting Rachel's gaze.

"How old are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"If I'm telling you shit that I don't want to, then so are you," Quinn replies harshly, with no room for negotiation.

"I'm twenty three," Rachel sighs. "I did an accelerated undergraduate program to get my bachelor's degree and I'm in my second year of my master's right now. I'm in Lima for my semester of student teaching requirement."

Quinn's eyes widen slightly when her suspicions about Rachel's age are confirmed, possibly even more so than Quinn might have thought. When Rachel looks at her expectantly, she lowers her eyes and inhales a slow breath before speaking.

"I'm already a big enough fuck up without pursuing a career in music. My family barely acknowledges my existence as it is. I can't let myself love it or be interested in your class. The other elective class that fit my schedule was already filled, so I had to take your music class. I _can't _let myself love it, Rachel," Quinn whispers, pleading with her eyes for Rachel to understand.

Rachel's mouth is hanging open a little as Quinn provides her explanation. She wants to tell this girl to pursue what she loves, that's it's not worth it to waste her life on something she's not passionate about. She wants to ask what kind of situation Quinn is in with her family that makes her so adamant to avoid pursuing this talent. But it's clear that Quinn is decided on this, and Rachel can't find the right words to communicate what's racing through her head.

It causes Rachel to wonder about something else though.

"Then why were you playing the piano just now?" she questions with curiosity.

"The same reason I kissed you when I shouldn't have," Quinn answers, shrugging her shoulder, and Rachel stares in confusion. "It's hard to make yourself stay away sometimes," she elaborates.

Rachel looks at her with sympathy, but that quickly dissipates when she realizes the comparison that Quinn just made.

"Well you're going to have to stay away when it comes to me, Quinn. This can't go on."

Quinn gives her this indiscernible look, and then quickly strides away without saying a word. The side door exit shuts before Rachel even gathers her senses enough to chase after her, and at that point it feels like it's too late.

Quinn Fabray is the worst kind of complicated to storm into her life.

She still has four more months to spend in Lima.

She honestly doesn't know how she's going to make it through.

Because Quinn was right-

She's a fool if she thinks they can keep this a one-time thing between them.


End file.
